I’ve written and re-written this post several times in my head the last few weeks. It’s an exciting announcement, but because I’ve been the recipient of several of these announcements before, it’s bittersweet. Because, I know the pain of hearing this announcement when you so desperately want the announcement to be yours, and it’s not.
We are pregnant. We are 12 weeks along.
This fall, we decided to give IVF one last shot before completely committing to the foster adoption process. We had done IVF several years ago, and it was a complete failure, all around. This time, we chose a different clinic, and got the “best” doctor.
And, it worked.
It wasn’t, however, without a ton of prayer, agony, and sheer miracles.
After going through months of testing (which all looked relatively normal), we ended up on Day 5 with only one surviving embryo. And it was a day behind.
Through my tears, the senior embryologist ended up transferring two embryos – one more that may have been still growing – although it didn’t look that great, and was also a day behind.
A few days after the transfer, I ran across a pregnancy test in my drawer that was about to expire. I took the test. It was positive.
Several days later, we got the beta. It was 92.
Four days later, it hadn’t doubled in the preferred 48 hours. It doubled in about 66 hours. Still within “normal,” but not reassuring.
Two days later, it had more than doubled.
The first heartbeat at 6 weeks, 3 days was just 119. Again, within “normal,” but not super reassuring.
At 9 weeks, it was 175. But it wasn’t moving.
At 11 weeks, it was 165, and he/she was dancing.
Today, at 12 weeks, 1 day, he/she was jumping.
It is surreal to me that we are having a 100% genetic child. But all it really is is a satisfaction of a curiosity for me. This child is no more a child of mine than Brae and Sienna.
I love, and am grateful, that at the end of the day, our three children will not share a gene among them, and yet still be all family.